The Mysterious M
by The Mysterious M
Summary: The story of a wizarding band, The Mysterious M, and the lead singer. A responce to a challenge on Fictionalley. Warning! HBP Spoilers!
1. Introduction

Title: The Mysterious M

Author: The Mysterious M

Rating: PG-13

Summery: There are other wizarding bands. This is the tale of just one of them, looking closely at the lead singer.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. If I did, I would not be writing this. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her editing crew.

A/N: Yes, I know that I share the first name with my heroine. However, this is not a Mary-Sue. I am NOT, and I repeat, NOT Meara MacDonald as presented in this fic. Any flames about this will be ignored and/or reported. Thank you.

Meara MacDonald had always wanted to sing. All of her life she'd been singing, even before she knew about magic, she knew that she would be a singer. She planned stage names, costumes, even what songs she would include in her set. Songs by such muggle greats as Eric Clapton and Def Leppard were constantly heard from her bedroom in the small apartment she shared with her mother in New York. She even kept a diary of ideas for her future shows.

It therefore came as a huge surprise when, instead of a letter asking her to join a prestigious musical school, Meara was given a letter asking her to join the Salem School of Witchcraft. Both MacDonald ladies were very excited, and the four years that followed were the best of her life. She graduated a full-fledged witch and had an even more intense desire to perform. She began to write songs in a notebook as she worked in a small shop in the wizarding district of New York. She sent out feelers for an agent in the magical world, but they seemed to be full of those who would change her performing style or songs.

It took several years before she realized that the only way she could break out into the magical musical scene was to actually start performing. Enlisting the help of her mother, she began to make the costumes required. She took a cue from the Weird Sisters with the specially torn clothing, but instead opted for a worn look. She started looking for a band. Her bassist and drummer were, without a doubt, the best of the magical world. They began to put out feelers for guitarists. While Meara could play guitar, she wasn't nearly good enough to play with the men she had chosen for her band. The word they got back was that there were two exceptional players… in England. With disappointment, they began to talk it over. What were they going to do? Should they move to the English scene, or should they try to find others?

Meara talked to her mother. Sofia MacDonald, while close to her daughter, encouraged her to move. She knew that this would give her a better chance to break into the musical scene, and these players sounded like they were much more in tune with what her daughter and her current band members wanted. Meara took her mother's advice to heart. She quit her job at the shop, knowing that she could get another job when she got to England. She and her two band members than set out on a journey.

When they reached England, they settled down in London. The two guitarists joined them, and it was immediately apparent that they were the correct players for the band. Meara began to breathe a bit easier as she began to look for a job. She trawled Diagon Alley, the Wizarding district of London, and soon found a job in a fledgling shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The owners, two twins with flaming red hair, found it amusing to have as an employee an American witch who was only working there until her record deal came in. Her band members were always hanging around the shop when they weren't at work themselves. The twins enjoyed the company, and they certainly enjoyed the massive amount of free and willing victims. They became more and more a part of the band, allowing them to practice in the shop and even lending a few pointers. Though they had no musical training, they gave invaluable insight into what the average wizard would hear and like.

The Weasley twins began to do more and more for the band, getting gigs for them at local wizarding pubs and promoting them in their shop. They even gave the band their name, playing off of Meara's name and the fact that while the five members had been constantly in the shop, they knew nothing of them. Thus, The Mysterious M was born.


	2. Chapter One: The Beginning

Chapter One: The Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also do not own the lyrics "The more you say/the more I lie/and try to hide/how I feel inside" Those belong to a good friend of mine who was sporting enough to let me write a song around them.

Meara MacDonald stood over the stove in the small kitchen in the flat above shop. Her small stature and short, extremely curly hair made her an unlikely choice for a rock star singer, but her flashing green eyes revealed a passionate fire. The steam rising from the pot added to the mysterious air that surrounded her. Pulling a spoon out of her back pant pocket, she stirred the contents of the pot. She began to hum, and as she thought, a far away look came to her eyes. She put the spoon down and grabbed a worn notebook from the countertop. Pulling a pencil from behind her ear, she began to write on a blank sheet.

_Are you the wizard of my dreams?_

_Was it you that I saw last night?_

_Was it your red hair and freckled smile_

_That made me turn away in fright_

_Of what I feel_

_Of what I had thought_

_When I saw your muscular frame?_

_The more you say_

_The more I lie_

_And try to hide_

_What I feel inside_

_I'm a whole different person when I'm with you_

_There's nothing else I'd rather do_

_Than be here_

_The wizard of my dreams_

A call from the other room made her jump. She stared at the door, where a smiling face came into view. George Weasley smiled as he gazed at the startled young woman before him.

"Hey, we going to have dinner or a song tonight?" he asked jokingly. Meara quickly stuffed her notebook out of sight.

"You're not supposed to know about my notebook," she said accusingly, turning back to the pot on the stove. She noticed the contents floating, and quickly turned the burner off. Lifting the pot off of the stove, she strained the raviolis in the sink and then put them back in the pot with a bit of butter. She turned to see George pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven and placing it on the special bread board Meara had gotten from her mother before leaving the states. He smiled as he lead the way out of the kitchen. Meara shook her head to clear it of any inappropriate thoughts before following with the main course.

Seated around the table in the small living area, forks and knives in the air, were Fred Weasley, the other Weasley twin, Ian Smith, lead guitarist of Mysterious M, Robert Hank, the rhythm guitarist, Bobby Underhill, drummer, and Alfie Polan, bassist. Meara had to laugh as the group of them began to pound their utensils on the table and chanted "We want food now". George gave Meara a lopsided smile as they placed the food on the table to a flurry of action. Dinner in the joke shop was always an interesting affair.

As soon as the meal was over, the group began to tell stories and jokes. Meara enjoyed these little talks. They allowed her to relax fully after a hard day's work and have a nice conversation with close friends. Besides the band, the only people she knew in Britain were the Weasley twins and their large family, and she felt very close indeed to the two twins.

After a few hours, Meara's eyes began to droop. She put her head on the nearest shoulder, praying that it was Ian or Bobby. They never minded when she used them for a pillow. She closed her eyes and listened to Alfie tell the story about the time a band he was in played for a full house in huge bar. Within moments, she was asleep.

A sunbeam gently caressed Meara's cheek as she stirred. Her vivid green eyes opened to see a window ajar and gauzy curtains blowing in a gentle wind. She didn't recognize the window, or its view, but she was too groggy to care. She rolled over, away from the light, and curled up against a very warm pillow. Before falling asleep again, she wondered why her pillow was so warm and felt so unlike cotton.

George opened his eyes to a startling view. He knew that Meara had fallen asleep on her shoulder, but how she ended up in his bed curled up on his chest was beyond him. He fell back into the pillows to think. After she had fallen asleep, the other band members had said that they couldn't carry her all the way home. While Meara was small, she was muscular and weighed enough that one of them, tired as they were, could not carry her all the way home. He vaguely remembered Fred offering to let her stay the night, and a small, quiet argument about where she was going to sleep.

Realization hit him. He had finally decided to just let her sleep in his bed, fighting the feelings that swamped his mind. He had originally meant to sleep on the floor, but when he came back from a midnight bathroom visit, half asleep, he fell into bed without thinking and fell asleep. He then turned his thoughts on the awkward position he had found himself in.

"What am I going to do about this?" he asked himself quietly. Meara gently stirred in her sleep, letting out a small groan and rolling off of his chest. He carefully climbed out of bed, trying hard not to wake her. He pulled on an old t-shirt that was laying on a chair and quietly made his way out of the room. Fred met him in the hallway.

"You just gonna let her wake up alone in a strange room?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother's tired look. George shrugged.

"It's a better option than letting her wake up with her head on my bear chest in my bed wondering what the hell happened last night," he said wearily as he made to the kitchen. Fred followed.

"And, pray tell brother dearest, what did happen?" he asked, a smile on his face and in his voice. George groaned.

"I didn't tease you about Angelina, Fred, don't even go there with Meara," George said as he stepped into the kitchen. He made his way to the cabinets and put a kettle full of water on the stove. Fred followed him in and walked to a cabinet. Pulling the doors open, he pulled out two mugs and two tea bags.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying, George," he began as he set the mugs down on the countertop. He then turned to see George looking out the back window into the alleyway. "But I see the way you look at her, the way you rush to help her out when she's working for us. It's the same way Dad looks at Mom. You're my twin; it's my job to tease you."

George sighed, then turned and looked at Fred. "Is this how you feel about Angelina?" he asked, uncertainty and fear in his eyes. Fred smiled.

"Yeah, it is," he admitted. He blushed and looked back into the shop. Fred smiled as he thought of Angelina Johnson, chaser of the Gryffindor Quiddich team. Turning back to his brother, he continued.

"I've never felt this way before, with any girl. She's something else entirely. Now I know what Dad meant when he said, 'You'll know her when you see her.'" George let out a small laugh.

"The sad thing? I barely know her. Yeah, I know that she sings in a rock band, and that she likes Italian food. I know that she has a mother back home in New York, and I know that she refuses to change anything about herself to please anyone else. But I don't know Meara. I don't know what makes her who she is. I don't know where she learned her witchcraft. I don't even know her birthday, Fred. But, if you or anyone else were to ask me if I was in love with that witch, I'd have to say yes."

Fred shook his head. "You know enough about her to know that she's the woman for you, don't you?" he asked. When George nodded, he smiled. "Then you know enough. The rest will come with time, trust me. I don't think Meara has ever really had anyone to open up to, and living in New York, she's most likely used to not telling everything right away. Give her time." He turned to look out the door and saw Meara coming down the hallway, wearing an oversized t-shirt and little else. Her usually wild hair was even more so, thanks to constant tossing and turning during the night. She walked into the kitchen as Fred reopened the cabinet doors and pulled out a third mug and tea bag. George looked at her, a lopsided smile on his face.

"Morning, Meara," he said casually as she leaned against a cupboard. She smiled back.

"Morning, George. Fred," she said sleepily. She smiled at Fred as he handed her a mug and murmured her thanks. Fred did some fast thinking.

"Hey, Meara, sorry to bother you with this first thing in the morning, but where are the magic schools in the US? I mean, there has to be at least one, since you're a witch and you didn't go to school in Canada…" He trailed off, gestering his hands to prompt her. Meara gave a slight smile.

"Oh, there are schools in every state, at least one. New York has several. The one I went to was called The Salem School of Witchcraft, one of the best. All-girl high school-type. That's where I learned everything. There are, of course, magical colleges, but I wanted to be a musician, so I quit the learning scene. Those are basically for higher-level magic, stuff I didn't need because of what I wanted to do." She shrugged, took a sip of her tea, and then continued. "Besides, they're all terribly expensive, and Mom and I just didn't have the money for me to continue. It was actually my only choice, to quit school and go into the music business. Wasn't twisting my arm, let me tell you that." She suddenly became very interested in her tea and took several more sips before George broke the silence.

"How did you meet your band?" he asked quietly. Meara looked up, amused.

"What, did I not tell you?" she asked jokingly. George smiled. She made a face, put her tea down on the countertop, and pulled herself up so that she could sit down and look the twins in their faces. "I put out a few feelers. You learn these things, especially in New York in the magical musical district. We used to call it the MM, to shorten where we were going. Anyways, I got word that there was an amazing bassist in a band in a club somewhere. They said that while the band wasn't going anywhere fast, the bass was amazing. He could be famous someday. I gave him an owl, and he came to meet me after work in a coffee shop near his club. He was a nice guy, and we clicked. He then recommended an old friend of his for drums. Alfie brought Bobby to Mom and my apartment, and even Mom liked him. The two of them were extremely talented, and amazingly enough, the three of us became quick friends. Two of the only people I've ever really talked to.

"The only problem then was guitars. They had some great song material, but all of it required at least two guitars. There wasn't anything in New York, and trust me, we looked." She shuddered. "All those hours sitting in a chair in that club Alfie used to play in, listening to hacks who thought they were the wizard version of Angus Young… When we finally did get two promising tapes, they were from Britain. I wasn't anxious to leave Mom, since she's all I've ever had, but she insisted. Even Bobby and Alfie were all over it, saying that England was more receptive to what we wanted to do. So, we went for it. We moved here, Ian and Robert joined the band, and we got jobs to pay the bills until we got a good stream of paying gigs. That's when I met you guys." She smiled at the memory. "You two, my band, and my mother are the people who know the most about me, the people I feel I can most trust. I know I don't talk much about who I am, but…" She shrugged again. "I've never felt that I have to spell out who I am. The people I hang out with are smart enough to figure that out for themselves." She fell silent, lost in thought. George looked at Fred, and as soon as their eyes met, they knew that they were about to do something highly amusing. They turned in perfect unison back to Meara and gave her an evil smile.

"So, what's in that notebook that you're always writing in?" Fred asked, a glint in his eye. Meara raised an eyebrow.

"Song material. Mostly poems that I've written that can become lyrics. Why?" she asked, suddenly suspicious. George pulled her notebook from behind his back.

"Mind if we read?" he asked, already opening the cover. Meara shrugged.

"You want to enter the craziness that's my mind, be my guest," she said, taking another sip from her tea. "Just don't ask questions or read them out loud," she added as he began to open his mouth. She knew full well that he would ask quite a few questions from the wizard song, but she didn't want unnecessary prying into her inner thoughts. As she and Fred finished their tea and began breakfast, George read the many pages of poems and songs, looked at the many costume ideas, and glanced over special effects plots that she had done when talking to the band about the big show they had always wanted to do when they had enough material and popularity to do so.

As Meara put the scrambled eggs on the table beside the toast, George flipped back through the pages of the notebook. He then beckoned her over.

"This," he said, pointing to a costume idea she had conceived during a slow day at the store, "is without a doubt the coolest thing that you could wear for a concert featuring these songs. Why don't you make it?" He looked up at her shocked face.

"Mostly because I don't have the money or time," she said softly, looking back at his freckled face. He smiled at her.

"Seriously, something like this would be the look for you," he said equally softly. "This is the kind of thing that makes or breaks a band." He pulled the pen out from the spiral wire binding and began to sketch. Meara pulled a few plates out from a cabinet and grabbed some silverware from a drawer before sitting down and giving the required utensils to the twins. Fred joined her in eating while watching George scribble on the page. Finally, Meara spoke up.

"George, you need to eat something before it all goes cold," she said softly. He looked up at her as if finally realizing that there was food. He handed her the notebook and pen before pulling dishes towards him.

"There you have it, the ultimate M look," he said, proud of himself. Meara took a look at the page. He had added a few things to her outfit, leaving her in a shorter plaid school-girl skirt and a slightly torn white blouse, sporting black boots that went up to her knees. The rest of the band was dressed in Muggle school uniform-like outfits, all artfully torn or worn with patches. She was impressed. They looked like a Muggle rock band, something definitely new to the magical scene. Most magical performers wore robes of various styles, but this… This allowed her to move around the stage and do what she needed to do while still letting her be a rock star. She passed the notebook to Fred, who was obviously impressed as well. Meara then turned to George.

"I can't wear that to every show, of course. That would be a great stadium costume, or a large bar. A venue where I need to be all over the stage. But…"

She trailed off as she grabbed the notebook back from Fred and began to sketch furiously. Fred and George shared a bemused look before beginning to clear the table. It wasn't even an hour before she walked into the kitchen holding out the notebook for their approval. The twins, all four hands in soapy water washing dishes, looked at the drawings with interest. It was a hurried sketch of Meara in a tight pair of worn jeans and t-shirt paired with boots similar to the ones George had her wearing in the previous drawing. Both smiled. This was another classic M look, with them all looking like Muggles and yet sounding like wizards. A whole new form of magical music was born.

_"Just as the wild winged dove sings a song, sounds like she's singin' 'Who, baby, who, who?'" came a voice from behind a door in the small apartment of Sophia MacDonald. Sophia herself was in the kitchen a few paces away dancing to the music clearly audible from her only daughter's room. The door opened, letting out more notes as Meara emerged from her hiding place._

_"Just as the wild winged dove sings a song, sounds like she's singin' 'Who, baby, who, who?'" sang the two women as they danced around the kitchen. Sophia laughed as her daughter twirled around a pole acting as a doorway separating the living room from the bedrooms. Giggling, Meara dodged back into her room to turn off Stevie Nicks. When she reamerged, Sophia pulled her daughter to her._

_"Come here you," she said jokingly, hugging the young woman. Meara snuggled next to her mother and put her arm around her waist._

_"How can I help ya, Mom?" she asked, the slight New York accent showing in her speech. Sophia released her daughter and threw a potholder at her. _

_"You can start by pulling whatever's in the oven out and putting it on the table," she said, contrasting her daughter's accent with her own Scottish one. Meara sighed and did as her mother asked. _

_Sophia picked up a pile of envelopes from the countertop. "This all that came in the mail?" she asked her daughter. Meara put the casserole on the table and turned to face her mother's back._

_"Yeah, that's all of it," she said, leaning against the table. "Why?"_

_Sophia turned to face her daughter, an envelope in her hand. "This is for you, babe," she said, holding it out. Meara came, a puzzled look on her face, and took it from her mother. She took a look at the address written in purple ink:_

_Meara MacDonald_

_135 36th Street_

_Apartment 4C_

_New York, New York_

_She was increasingly suspicious as she ripped it open to reveal several pages written in the same purple ink. She looked at her mother who simply shrugged, a smile on her face. Turning back to the first page, she began to read._

_Dear Miss Meara,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for admission into the Salem School of Witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts. This fine institution is agirls only school teaching the finest magical methods. _

_Meara turned back to look at her mother._

_"A witch? I'm a witch?" she asked, the shock evident in her voice. Sophia nodded._

_"Your father was a wizard," she said quietly. "I hoped you'd have those genes. It was wonderful to have a wizard around the house."_

_Meara looked down at the page for a moment, then turned back to her mother. "You've never told me anything about him," she said sadly. Sophia sighed._

_"He didn't tell me much," she admitted. "We lived together when I was in London before you were born. Of course, that was only of convenience for him. I had an apartment, but for a few days every month, he was off somewhere else." She shrugged. "I was young and naïve. He was attractive, mysterious, and very intelligent." She fell into silence, thinking about the man who fathered her child. Meara watched her mother._

_"Didn't he tell you his name?" she asked quietly, taking a step towards her mom. Sophia shook her head._

_"He gave me a name, but when I tried to find him again, to tell him that he was a father, I found out the name was false. All I know is that he was a wizard."_

_"But, why would he tell you that he was a wizard and not tell you his real name?" Meara asked, a puzzled look on her face, the letter all but forgotten. Sophia gave a small laugh._

_"Oh, he didn't tell me that. I found his wand along with several books when he was sleeping," she said, a large smile on her face as she remembered the scene. "He never found out that I knew, and I never felt the need to tell him until you were born. By then, he was gone."_

_Meara put the letter on the table and then walked up to her mother. Giving the older woman a hug, she felt the need to continue the line of questioning._

_"What happened? Why did he leave?" she asked quietly. Her mother sighed again and held her daughter closer._

_"I don't know. He was gone for several days one month, right after I found out I was pregnant and was figuring out how to tell him, and then, when he came back, it was while I was sleeping. He snuck back into the apartment, gathered his things, and left. He didn't even leave a note," she said sadly. _

_An alarm made both women jump. Sophia straightened up and wiped the few tears off her cheeks. "That'll be the stove," she said, business-like again, and she and Meara finished preparing dinner._

A/N: Thank you, Ian, for letting use your lyrics. You are truly an angel.


	3. Chapter Two: A Concert to Remember

Chapter 2: A Concert to Remember

Meara stood in her jeans and shirt looking very nervous. She watched as the other opening band rocked out on the stage, their creative robes billowing around them as they sang a love song. A hand reached out and touched her shoulder from behind her. With a gasp, she turned around to see Ian behind her.

"Relax, babe," he said in his lovely accent. "Everything's going to be fine. You're going to be a star because of this concert, just you wait and see." Meara smiled and took a deep breath.

"No, we're going to be stars. I can't do it alone, Ian, and you know that," she assured the taller wizard. He smiled in return. "Say hello to babe city," she said jokingly, and he laughed accordingly.

"Not so much babe city, love," he said. "I'm looking forward to the lack of worry about where the next paycheck is going to come. And, of course, all the boys willing to get with the gay lead guitarist of The Mysterious M." He shrugged and gave a huge toothy smile. "To each his own, right?"

Meara nodded, a grin on her own face. "Well then, I guess I'd better not screw up the lyrics then, so you can get a boyfriend."

With that, the first opening band finished. The lead singer, a wizard from the highlands of Scotland, grabbed a mike and quieted the crowd. "Thank you all for coming, we really appreciate your enthusiasm. Now, it's my pleasure to introduce to you the wonderfully talented band that comes up next. With members from both the States and Britain herself, please welcome the amazing Mysterious M!"

The crowd roared. Meara took a deep breath and then ran onto the stage to thunderous applause. She grabbed the mike from the other singer and thanked him quietly. He nodded and quickly made his way off stage, leaving Meara to sweet talk the crowd.

"THANK YOU LONDON!" she shouted. The crowd responded accordingly, and she allowed them to shout themselves into a lull before she began the next part of her speech. She was surprised that so many people had shown up, especially knowing that "Moldy Voldy" was on the loose, but then again, everyone needed a morale booster. A rock concert was just the thing. "We are The Mysterious M, and we are so happy to be here tonight. We have a great show in store for you before the Weird Sisters come up here, so hold on to your hats!" She gave a small nod, signaling for Ian to start his guitar riff from the first song. The crowd began to shout again, and then settled down for what promised to be an awesome show. Meara put the mike to her mouth one more time. "This song is from a Muggle band we all like very much. It's called 'Thunderstruck'." Those who knew the song began to sing along as Meara belted out the lyrics to the AC/DC classic. When the song finished, the crowd was in the palm of the band's collective hand. They were ready for anything.

Meara stepped back and talked to Alfie for a few moments, getting the next song. When he finally nodded to her suggestion, she walked to the front of the stage again. Alfie informed the rest of the band of the change in program while Meara began to talk to the crowd again.

"Ok, we have a great surprise in for you tonight. This is our first concert, really, so we're gonna make it extra special. We're gonna do a song that I wrote, actually." A few screams made Meara laugh. She turned to where the calls were coming from. "Yeah, that's right. Ok, this song is called 'Are You the Wizard of My Dreams?'" The song began, and Meara gave it everything she had.

"_Are you the wizard of my dreams?_

_Was it you that I saw last night?_

_Was it your red hair and freckled smile_

_That made me turn away in fright_

_Of what I feel_

_Of what I had thought_

_When I saw your muscular frame?"_

The crowd had gone crazy. She knew that, with the song's heavy guitar, bass, and drum lines, it would be a crowd hit, but she didn't think it would be this big. She continued the song, breaking into the chorus with a smile on her face.

"_The more you say_

_The more I lie_

_And try to hide_

_What I feel inside_

"_I'm a whole different person when I'm with you_

_There's nothing else I'd rather do_

_Than be here with you,_

_The wizard of my dreams"_

A few in the crowd had pulled out lighters, a testament to the song's slower beat and ballad-like lyrics. Meara leaned down to touch a few hands before moving into the song's second verse.

" _Do you dream like I dream?_

_Will you think how I think_

_Or is this a passing phase_

_That goes away with a blink_

_Of an eye_

_Or with a sigh_

_Of regret?_

"_The more you say_

_The more I lie_

_And try to hide_

_What I feel inside_

"_I'm a whole different person when I'm with you_

_There's nothing else I'd rather do_

_That be here with you,_

_The wizard of my dreams"_

Meara moved out to the center of the stage, knowing that if she didn't get the right intensity for the bridge, the entire song would be blown. She took a deep breath and began to sing again, putting all of her power and feeling into it.

"_I've always dreamed of forever_

_I've always thought of eons of smiles_

_Thousands of miles I've traveled_

_Is this the end of the road?_

"_I'm a whole different person when I'm with you_

_There's nothing else I'd rather do_

_Than be here with you_

_The wizard of my dreams_

_The wizard, yes the wizard of my dreams"_

As the final chords rang in the stadium, the entire band sensed that with that one song, they had finally made fans. They knew that the song Meara had written over ravioli professing her confusion over a romance had made them stars. The rest of the show went without a hitch, and when they got back to the trailer to change into normal clothes, none of them said a word. Finally, Robert broke the silence.

"So, when were you going to unveil that little gem, Meara?" he asked, a smile on his bemused face. Meara blushed.

"If I had known that it would be that big of a hit, I would have asked you guys to play it at every concert we've done at the Leaky Cauldron," she said dryly. Bobby broke into a mad smile.

"Did you see those lighters? Did you, Meara? They were in the palm of our hands, and we gave them a gem. They pulled out _lighters_ for us. A warm-up band…" He trailed off, still in awe of their astounding good luck. Meara smiled.

"Yeah, I saw them. I also saw the swaying, and the mosh pit jumping up and down at those songs that you guys wrote. Don't you see? Together, the band is amazing. Separated into parts, we're still good, but not nearly as note-worthy as the band itself. We have to stick together. No one of us is worth a damn outside the whole," she said. Then, she turned to Alfie. "Any more musical phenomenon's you want to give us? Your songs went over the best, the only one of mine that did anything was 'Wizard'."

Alfie smiled broadly. "Yeah, actually, I do have a good one. I'll give it to you guys at rehersal tomorrow." He then turned to the guys. "Don't go drinking to celebrate. We have to remain the band we've been, or else we're done for. So, no drinks, drugs, or girls. Those can wait until your off time. Got it?" The band nodded, packed up their things, and went out into the world. Meara looked back at Alfie before going to the Weasley twins. They deserved to know about the latest amazing thing to happen to them.

The twins thought it was amazing. Meara told them all about the various songs that made the crowd go crazy, and they immediately wanted lyrics. Meara gave the "Wizard", but she didn't have the others written down. Fred and George teased her endlessly about "Wizard", demanding to know who this mysterious red head was, but she kept her lips sealed. She hadn't even told the band of her attraction to George Weasley, so she wasn't about to tell the man himself.

By the time that they had finished teasing, poking, and prodding into her inner thoughts, it was far too late for her to walk back to her apartment. The streets were not safe these days, especially for a lone witch. The twins were loath to let her leave the safety of the shop. After a lengthy argument, George finally persuaded Meara to stay the night. After a second equally lengthy argument, Fred persuaded Meara to sleep in George's bed while George slept on the floor of Fred's room. Fred knew that George wouldn't be there all night; his brother had a habit of getting up in the wee hours of the morning for a bathroom run, and in his sleepy state, Fred knew that George would climb into bed with Meara before light. He watched with amusment as Meara grabbed the extra toiletries that were always kept on hand at the shop and an oversized t-shirt and hid in the bathroom while George quickly tried to clean his room to be less offensive to a female.

The next morning was one of extreme excitement. True to Fred's predictions, George had crawled into bed with Meara. Unfortunately for George, he didn't wake up before Meara, and even if he had, Meara was comfortably curled up on his chest. The earth shattering scream that pierced the early morning filled the residents of Diagon Alley with terror and Fred Weasley with great amusement. After he made breakfast for the blushing couple, he took great pleasure in watching the awkward moments that abounded. Meara and George avoided each other's gaze. It didn't seem that Meara was mad at George, just that she was scared of what had happened when they were both asleep in the same bed. Finally, Fred had to break the silence.

"So, did you two sleep ok?" he asked, an innocent look on his face. Two pairs of eyes glared back at him.

"Do you want to die?" Meara asked menacingly.

"It can be arranged," Fred added, an equally evil look on his face. George frowned.

"Look, you two, it was an accident, it happens, get over it. You two are crazy about each other, everyone can tell," he said quickly, trying to get everything out before his twin and Meara fell on his neck. The look of shock in their eyes told him quite plainly that whatever they had been expecting from his mouth, that wasn't it. They glanced at each other, and upon meeting the other's eyes, quickly looked away. George turned the usual Weasley red while Meara donned a light shade of pink quite becoming to her. Fred rolled his eyes and began to resume eating his eggs.

Finally, George looked up, his face contorted into a confused expression. He turned to Meara.

"Meara, who is that guy in 'Wizard'?" he asked, a sense of urgency in his voice. Meara looked up at him.

"Why?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Fred grinned. This was it. The moment of truth had finally arrived.

George looked very uncomfortable for a moment, but soon managed to put it aside. "Look, I think I'm in love with you, and I think you love me, too. But I need to hear it from you first. I think you wrote that song about me, and just couldn't tell anyone about it. You said you haven't even told the band," he said, a note of pleading evident in his voice towards the end. Meara blushed a darker pink, then swallowed and looked down.

"When Mom said that 'I love you' is the hardest thing to say, I never thought it would be like this," she whispered. She then turned to George. "The song is about you. You're right. I do love you. I tried to hide it, thinking that there was no way you liked me back, but apparently I was wrong." Unshed tears shined in her eyes as she gave her confession. Fred smiled even broader.

"It's about time!" he exclaimed before jumping up from the table and running into the kitchen. Meara gave George a look.

"What was that all about?" she asked. George shrugged and reached for his twin's plate.

"Come on, let's get this mess cleaned up before things get all mushy and stuff. I always hated the mushy moments," he said frankly. He stood up, gathering things to him. Meara did the same.

"Yeah, I don't like those moments either," she said, a smile playing on her mouth. "But I sure as hell like them now."

_Meara felt almost determined to find her father. She asked around the school, trying to see if anyone knew of a tall, black-haired man that lived with a muggle while in London. Of course, this was Massachusetts. Unless the man was a wealthy heir, no one would know his name. The only name she had as a possible lead was one Sirius Black, famous all over the world as a rich playboy who had been disowned from his well-to-do family. One of the teachers even had a picture._

_"Oh, he turned a few heads, even over here," the woman gushed, blushing a light pink. "Of course, we knew he was out of our reach. But look at those muscles!" Meara could tell just from looking that this man was not her father. The man in the photographs with his arm around her mother did not have this man's laughing eyes, and Mr. Black did not have her father's funky hairstyle. She felt it hopeless._

_However, her time at Salem was not completely wasted. She made friends quickly as they battled one teacher after another. Bonds were formed that, at the time, seemed would never break. Meara enjoyed playing pranks on various friends and enemies, which soon gave her the title of "Trickster Queen". She relished this title and laughed all the harder when her friends gave her a taste of her own medicine. _


	4. Chapter Three: Dinnertime

Chapter 3: Dinnertime

Time passed. The situation in the wizarding world didn't get any better, but since it was summertime, the shop was as busy as ever. The twins purchased violently magenta robes for the staff to wear and even enforced the wearing of these garments above the protests of Meara and the other clerk, Verity. These new uniforms were hot, stuffy, and above all, ugly beyond imagination.

The twins, however, made up for the lack of fashion sense with information from the Burrow, something Meara looked forward to as she made dinner for the hopeless chefs. The twins had a way with storytelling, both weaving in and out of the conversation and making large arm movements. Meara lost several pounds at these dinners; she was laughing so hard she couldn't eat.

One evening, early in the summer, the twins were far more subdued. Meara put the pork roast on the table and was surprised to hear no applause, no comments about her angelic cooking, and no jeers from the peanut gallery. She frowned.

"What's wrong with you two?" she asked, taking her own seat as George reached for the carving knife.

"Our brother," they said in unison. Meara immediately feared the worst. The papers had been filled with horrible deaths caused by Death Eaters and dementor attacks; she couldn't bear to ask what had happened. The two boys sighed in unison.

"He's leaving the bachelorhood," Fred said, taking the meat that George offered him.

"He's marrying Fleur," George said, matching Fred's melancholy tone of voice and shaking his head. Meara gave them a puzzled look.

"But that's good, isn't it?" she asked, confusion obvious in her voice and face. The two boys shook their head again as Fred began to dish out the macaroni and cheese Meara had made.

"Fleur is interesting," George said, obviously not wanting to speak ill of his future sister-in-law.

"She's French, which isn't a problem, but it is hard to understand her," Fred added, also trying to find nice things to say about her.

"She's part Veela," George said, turning to his brother as if he had just remembered this fact. Fred nodded.

"But she's also slightly full of herself," Fred finished. Both boys turned in unison to Meara as she tried to work these details out.

"Let me get this straight. Your brother, which one God only knows, is marrying a French girl who, despite being very pretty, is also very full of herself?" she asked slowly as she began to put vegetables on her plate. The twins nodded in unison before digging in. Meara sighed.

"George, have you told your mother about…" she trailed off, not wanting to be pushy. He nodded.

"Yeah, I told her about you. But she's been a bit preoccupied with Bill (he's the one getting married) and Lupin/Tonks, so she didn't say a whole lot," he said before placing a large chunk of pork in his mouth and chewing away. Fred swallowed.

"Well, you can't blame her, can you? I mean, Fleur is treating her like a servant at times, though I doubt Mum treats her much better, Tonks is coming over at odd hours of the night begging for sympathy…" He trailed off, letting the others get the drift of what he was saying. Meara started.

"What's been happening with Tonks?" she asked, curious. Tonks had come by the shop a few times and was always happy to change the shape of her nose or the color of her hair for the passing children. Meara had taken a very strong liking to Tonks and her cheery attitude. Of course, it didn't hurt that Tonks had asked Meara for her autograph and claimed that as soon as The Mysterious M came out with t-shirts, she could buy one.

Fred shook his head. "She's fallen in love with Lupin," he began, sympathy in his voice.

"-but Lupin won't let her get close to him." George finished, an unhappy look on his face. Meara thought hard. She knew Lupin, a sort of quiet bookish fellow that reminded her a lot of one of her past boyfriends. He had aged prematurely but the grey and lines became him, giving him a more distinguished look and not detracting from the pleasant face he had already gotten. And she distinctly remembered him giving the twins praise for their various pranks…

"Why would Lupin not want to be with Tonks?" she asked.

"Well, Lupin has…" Fred started and then trailed off, searching for a word that would describe what the professor had. George sighed.

"Lupin has a little problem. It's enough to make him wonder if he can be a good lover/husband/whatever to Tonks."

"It's obvious that the two are crazy about each other," Fred added quickly, in case Meara should think otherwise.

"He's just a lot older than she is, and he's not exactly the richest man in the world," George finished. Meara sighed.

"I hate it when guys do that," she said sadly. "They think the girl needs something that they don't have, when in fact, the girl needs them as they are. Pity it had to happen to two such happy people."

There was a knock at the door. The twins looked at each other before both rising and making their way to the stairs.

"We'll be right back," they said in unison before descending into the shop below. Meara felt a knot in her stomach. The times were not safe, which was why both wizards went. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and put it onto the table, preparing to rush to their defense should anything happen. However, sounds of a happy reunion began to find their way to her ears, and she smiled and pocketed the wand once more. She then rose to get another plate and some extra silverware for the guest.

Footsteps and laughter led Fred, George, and none other than Remus Lupin into the small flat the twins had above the shop. Meara smiled broadly as she pulled another chair to the small table.

"Professor," she said happily as she took in the state of his clothes and how thin he was. He looked like he had been in a sewer for the past few weeks. He smiled at her greeting and gladly took the seat that Fred pushed him towards. Meara looked at the man sitting before her and began to make some educated guesses. She then took the meat in hand and began to put pieces of it on his plate.

"Professor, I swear you've lost several pounds since I've seen you last," she said as Fred and George laughed. Lupin gave her a thankful smile as she moved on to serving him macaroni and cheese and vegetables as well. Finally, they were all seated. Fred and George tried to keep the conversation light and began to tell a few jokes and stories about growing up with seven other people in the house.

"It was the worst during the summers, when everyone was there," George said, a smirk plainly on his face. Fred, sporting a smirk equal to that of his brother's, began to wave his arms around.

"There was no privacy," he said loudly. "And we only have one bathroom in the Burrow!" Lupin snorted into his macaroni. George nodded towards Lupin.

"Yeah, imagine all of us trying to get ready in the mornings… It was a nightmare," he said happily, suggesting it was anything but. Meara gave the twins a look.

"Let me guess. You two found it the perfect time to release pranks on your unsuspecting family," she said fighting the smile that threatened to take over her face. George and Fred looked at each other with such innocent faces that Lupin and Meara burst into laughter.

"I don't know what she's talking about," said Fred.

"Nor do I," said Geoge. They then turned to Meara, who was struggling to get her laughter under control.

"Those little bitty accidents that the family kept having were completely not of our making," Fred said, trying his best not to burst into laughter as well.

"No, they weren't," George added. "But that aside, I was worth hearing Percy singing 'God Bless the Queen' over Muggle loudspeakers while he was in the shower."

The room burst into laughter. When it finally died down, Remus smiled at the company.

"Thank you, Meara, for that lovely meal," he said happily. "I really needed a good dinner under my belt."

"I should think so!" Meara cried. "You're thinner than a fence rail!" Fred and George smiled broadly.

Lupin bowed his head. "Yes, I've lost a bit of weight," he admitted. He then looked up. "But I think I've gained it all back with that pork!" A mischievous smile crossed his face as he watched Meara scramble for words. Fred and George shared looks, than stepped in.

"Hey, stop that, Professor," Fred said.

"No one teases my girlfriend but me, my brother, and my family," George stated, giving an air of finality. Lupin smiled again.

"Ah, but I believe your mother, Mrs. Molly Weasley, told me that I _was_ part of the family," he said, an evil glint in his eyes. Meara rolled her eyes than stood up to clear the table. Lupin and the twins also rose to help her. Within minutes, the table was once again clear and the group was sitting down to a delicious dessert of chocolate ice cream. It was a most satisfying meal, all in all.

Finally the time came for bed. Lupin began to gather his few belongings that had seemingly grown legs and scattered themselves around the small flat. Meara noticed this.

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked him, putting her hands on her hips. He gave her a look.

"I'm going back whence I came," he said quietly, putting his cloak on. Fred and George were immediately at his side, pulling the cloak back off.

"We don't think so," they said in unison. Lupin gave them looks of surprise as they pushed him away from the door.

"You're staying here," George said.

"We'll work out details of sleeping arrangements later," Fred added.

"You can't go back to sleep in the sewers when there's a nice warm bed here with your name on it," Meara finished, her hands still on her hips and a glower on her face not unlike those of Mrs. Weasley's. Lupin smiled.

"You've convinced me," he stated. Meara went to a closet and pulled out extra sheets and blankets.

"Someone's sleeping out here on the couch," she said, "and it won't be the professor." Fred and George traded looks.

"I'll do it," Fred said. "You and George can stay in George's room, and Professor Lupin can take my bed." Professor Lupin smiled at Meara as she quickly made up the couch to be a make shift bed for Fred. Fred and George rushed off to quickly clean up Fred's room so that it would be a little bit more hospitable. Finally, those chores done, the company went to bed.


	5. Chapter 4: Of Plane Trips and Owls

Chapter 4: Of Plane Trips and Owls

The next morning when the group woke up, Professor Lupin was gone. He left a note on the kitchen table thanking them for their generosity and promising future visits.

"It was nice to spend the evening with such happy company and to actually sleep on a bed," he wrote in his distinctive loopy handwriting. "I'll be back, don't worry."

In the meantime, Meara was having a few problems. Letters kept coming from home begging for details. Sophia, while trusting her daughter to stay out of trouble, didn't trust the rest of the British wizarding world, especially those who were Death Eaters, to give Meara a wide berth. Meara tried reasoning with her mother ("It's one guy, he's nowhere near London, and if anything happens anywhere near me, I'll let you know!"), but it was to no avail. Sophia wanted her daughter home for a time, if only to see her once more.

The wakeup call was when several shop owners in Diagon Alley were attacked. Fred and George were both scared that poor Meara would be next, since her band was on the rise. They managed to convince the entire band that the time was right to go back to NYC and try their luck in America. Reluctantly, Meara packed her bags.

"It's only for a few months," George told her as she ran around her small flat trying to gather things together and put them in the various bags on her bed. "You'll be back, and maybe this summer killing spree will be over when you return."

Meara turned to him, green eyes flashing. "And leave you here to be mutilated by Moldy Voldy and his crew? I don't think so!" she cried, throwing a pile of shirts on the floor. George sighed.

"Look, you wouldn't be able to do anything if you stayed," he said quietly, picking up a few shirts and folding them as he spoke. "I'll feel much better if you and the band are somewhere else, somewhere far away. I don't want to live the rest of my life knowing that you had a chance to leave and didn't take it."

Meara bent down and picked up the rest of her shirts, all traces of her temper tantrum gone. "I just don't want to be halfway across the world when I find out that you've been killed," she whispered. George looked at her to see a few tears running down her cheek. "You mean so much to me. I don't want to lose you, not without a fight."

George took the clothes from her hands and placed them on the bed. He then reached over and took her face in his hands. "You're never going to lose me," he said softly, gently brushing away the tears from her cheeks. "I'm always going to be here. No crazy guy who was supposed to be dead but apparently isn't and is out to kill my brother's best friend and the object of my sister's affection is going to stop that." Meara gave a little wet laugh and looked into his deep brown eyes.

"This reminds me of _The Princess Bride_," she said just as softly. She then laughed a bit at George's confused face. "It's a muggle movie my mom and I were very fond of. Very funny. But at the beginning, Weasley leaves his true love, Buttercup. He tells her almost the exact same thing you just said."

George grinned. "Well, when you come back, bring the movie. We'll watch it together." He let go of her and began to fold more clothes. Meara smiled, slightly reassured that everything would be ok in the end.

As her mother was a muggle, Meara decided that it would be best to fly to New York and not scare Sophia when they all appeared in her living room. Thus, Mysterious M was accompanied to the airport by the Weasley twins and various significant others. The goodbyes were painful and lengthy, and all took place hours before the plane was to take off. Airport security was an insanely long process lately. Once on board the planes, the band talked quietly amongst themselves about how they were going to break into American music. It took the entire flight before they even came close to agreeing. Meara wanted a quiet invasion, taking small groups by storm until they had a following. Ian, Bobby, and Robert were all about trying to take the entire city of New York at once. The rest weren't partial, but were leaning more towards Meara's idea. It seemed more feasible.

To say that Sophia was happy to see her only child come off the airplane would be a gross understatement. There is no word in the English language to describe the tears, hugs, and kisses that flowed from the two women. After gathering the luggage, the band went back to the small apartment that Sophia owned. The British band members would be staying at the apartment while the others went back to their parents. Sophia was so happy to have them all back in her home. She had heard rumors of the killing spree in England and desperately wanted her daughter out of there. It had been a year since she had last seen the girl. A lot had happened in that year.

Meara was pumped over dinner for information. Who was she seeing? What was she seeing? Was he nice to her? How was London treating her? How was the band doing? Did they have many fans? The questions flew all night, mostly centering around Meara and the band.

Finally, Sophia pushed back her chair and stretched out her legs under the table. She gave Meara an appraising look and then sighed. Here sat her little girl, no longer small enough that she had to watch over her every move. Meara had grown up to be a wonderful woman.

"Is it bad over there?" she asked finally. Meara looked up from her bowl of chocolate ice cream and gave her mother a startled stare. Of all the questions she had anticipated, this was not one of them. She swallowed.

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning back to her ice cream and pretending that she had no idea what her mother was talking about. Sophia leaned forward and rested her arms on the table.

"I mean, the fighting, the murders… Is it bad? What's the situation?" she asked again, this time letting a bit of desperation leak into her voice. Meara sighed and looked back at her mother.

"Let's put it this way… The guy I'm in love with? The one you want to meet?" She paused for effect while her mother nodded. "I'm not sure if, when I get back, he's going to be alive. It's horrible over there, Mom. The paper is filled with the names of the dead, too many for proper obits. We're always surprised when people show up for our shows. The twins are shocked that the store is making so much money. You can't trust people anymore. You don't know who's against you and who's for you. You never know who's on which side. It's terrifying." Sophia's eyes were wide with fear. She shook her head, trying to shake out the images of her daughter lying dead in a ditch thanks to a wizard.

"You're staying here," she said finally. Meara gave her mother another look. "No, I mean it," she said again, trying to emphasize the fact that she didn't want her daughter in danger any longer. "The band can do just as well over here as it can over there. I don't want you to die at the hands of some crazed lunatic."

"Mom," Meara started, gently putting her hand over her mother's, "this is the life I want. I love England. I wouldn't live anywhere else. Fred and George take good care of me, as does the band. And besides, Dumbledore _is_ on our side. He's one of the most powerful wizards there is. If he's on the side I'm on, I have nothing to worry about." She smiled reassuringly. "I'm not worried. If I die, I die. There's nothing I can do about it. Music is my life's work; I'm helping people out by giving them a distraction. Just like George." Sophia sighed.

"You're really grown up, aren't you?" she asked accusingly. Meara laughed.

"Yeah, Mom, I am," she stated frankly. Giving a small happy sigh, she looked at the rest of the band. "Did you see the twin's slogan for their new joke?" Laughter broke out as they remembered the purple sign that the twins unveiled before they departed on the plane. Sophia looked at the laughing group.

"Do I want to know?" she asked when the giggles had died down. Meara nodded.

"'Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who? You should be worrying about U-No-Poo –the constipation sensation that's gripping the nation!'" she recited, watching her mother's horrified look turn to one of mirth. As Sophia laughed, Meara began to clean up after their small mess.

That night, Meara climbed into the bed she had used all through her childhood. Sophia gently opened the door to say goodnight to her only daughter, letting a small beam of light caress the floor as she traversed the piles of suitcases. Finally, she reached the bed and sat on the edge of it.

"You're all grown up," she said quietly as her daughter blushed a bit in the dim light. Sophia sighed. "When you get that strong man to propose, or at least commit to something, bring him over here. I want to meet this mysterious red head." Meara gave a little giggle.

"A lot of people want to meet him. Do you know how many crazy love letters he's gotten from random people who've fallen in love with his jokes?" she demanded from her mother, who gave a small laugh.

"You got to him first, babe, which counts for something," she said, reaching forward and brushing some hair out of her face. "Now, go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early, and we'll see what we can do about getting a gig for you and your friends to play at later this week." Meara nodded and sank down into the covers. Sophia carefully made her way out of the room and closed the door, leaving Meara to fall into a deep sleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, as Sophia liked to call them, Meara woke up to a troubling sound. Something, or someone, was tapping on her window with a sharp object. In New York, this could be a very, very bad sign. She rolled over and tried to ignore it, but it grew louder. Finally, tired of not sleeping, she sat up and made her way to the window. There, staring back at her from the dark night was an owl. Tawny and handsome, it pecked at her glass pane until she opened the window and let it in. The owl stuck out its right leg, begging her to take the letter off of it. She quickly set about untying the knot and letting the bird free. It flew off into the night in the direction of Central Park, making Meara think that it intended to rest a bit before making the flight back to its master. She smiled as she closed the window and then looked at the letter in her hands. The loopy handwriting on the envelope made her think that it was from Professor Lupin. She smiled again and put it on her nightstand, intending to read it first thing in the morning. She fell once again into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 5: Tears

Chapter 5: Tears

_Meara,_

_Just wanted to make sure you were ok. Things are fine here, just a bit hectic. Of course who should come by and say hi but our darling family and Mr. Harry Potter? The day after you leave, love, there they were on our doorstep. Wonderful, isn't it?_

_Mum asked after you. She really wanted to meet you and was slightly put out that you were in NYC with your own mother. That's ok; she's having everyone to Christmas. If you're back in time, you can meet my family then. If not, I can safely flirt with the girl down at the paper shop. I know you hate it when I do that, but I have to flirt with someone!_

_I was going through some of the stuff you left here. Found this pen, obviously. I never thought pink was your color. I also found a bunch of old records. Fred and I have been listening to them, trying to decide if we can do anything with them. I think we can, eventually. Give us enough time._

_Anyway, one of the songs reminded me of you. Here's a few of the lyrics, just to make sure you know what song it is:_

_I can't see no reason to put up a fight_

_I'm livin' for givin' the devil his due_

_And I'm burnin', I'm burnin', I'm burnin' for you_

_I'm burnin', I'm burnin', I'm burnin' for you_

_Love you, babe. Can't wait to see you again. Write me as soon as you can, so I know you're safe._

_-George_

It was one of the last warm days of the year. A breeze blew through Meara's hair as she strolled down the path in Central Park. A few kids played with a Frisbee on one of the many wide expanses of lawn. The trees moved gently, their slightly tinted leaves waving at Meara as she pondered the contents of her heart. With George's letter had come a rush of emotion and Meara didn't want to cry. Not now, when things were so difficult with her mother.

She couldn't pretend that she didn't catch Sophia's many hints that she needed to stay in New York. The band had a few gigs already, and Meara fully planned on making the most of this opportunity. However, with George unable to leave the shop and therefore, England, she knew where she needed to be: at home with him.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the tall buildings of the Manhattan skyline but Meara refused to go home. She still had some thinking to do. Finding a bench along the path, she sat down and put her head in her hands. She could just picture George and his brother standing in the shop, waving fanatically at the passing children and trying to corrupt them with their magnificent pranks. She remembered the feel of George's copper locks between her fingers and the spark that was always in his brown eyes. His freakled face hovered in front of her eyes as she silently poured tears out of her pale green orbs. How she missed him! She wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of her life. This Voldemort… He wanted to take that all from them. The Dark Lord didn't want a muggle-born American witch and a pure-blooded blood-traitor together, especially when both had some sort of standing in the community. He didn't even want them alive. The tears were coming faster now. What would she do? She loved her mother dearly; for many years, it was just Sophia and Meara. No men, just women enjoying themselves, dancing around the apartment to various muggle bands. She felt a loyalty towards her mother stronger than many bonds.

On the other hand, she had George and her future to think about. She knew and loved people in England, people who were just as like family. She couldn't imagine asking George to leave England for safer New York just as she couldn't imagine asking her mother to leave what she's always known for something completely foreign. She was torn between her two loves: her mother and her boyfriend. How would she ever become whole again?

It was long after dark before Meara made her way home. She hadn't figured out what to do, though. It would take more than a walk in the park to do that.


	7. Chapter 6: Let It Snow!

Chapter 6: Let It Snow!

Meara walked along the empty sidewalk, a small smile on her face. She hummed a little tune as she passed a few shops closing business for the night. A cold breeze caught her long coat and whirled it around her ankles. A few stray leaves swirled around her boots.

Meara could not help but be in a good mood. She may have been hundreds of miles away from George, she may have been up until 3 that morning at a show, and she may have still not found anything for her mother for Christmas, but she could not bring herself to be upset. The clouds were heavy with snow. Meara could feel it in her bones.

There was nothing like snow. It came down white and fluffy and lovely as lace. It piled up on the streets and the cars, and if she really imagined, Meara could almost believe that there was no street to begin with. She loved watching little kids run around, making snow angels and throwing snow balls at each other. She even loved the nasty, grey snow. It gave wherever it was piled a makeover, allowing her to pretend.

When she was a little girl, a kindly neighbor had taken her in while her mother was working. The lady wasn't any older than her mother, but she moved in such a way as to radiate an older kind of grace. She had an older accent as well, very exacting in its pronunciation.

"Meara," she said one day when the little girl was kneeling on the window seat staring at the snow. "Would you like to read a book about snowflakes?"

The young Meara could barely contain her excitement. The lady walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down a small book. She then crossed the room back to Meara. "This book," she explained, "was written by my grandfather when I was a little girl. He was very sick one winter and all her could do was watch the snow falling outside his windowpane. So, to take up time, he wrote a little story for my cousins and I." She then handed the book to Meara and left to make hot chocolate.

Every time she saw snow from that time on, she couldn't help but think of the kind lady with the snow book and of the wonderful hot chocolate she had made. The lady had left soon after her mother had secured another job, one that would let her stay with Meara more often. Meara couldn't even remember her name.

When she returned to the apartment, the band was sitting on the couch and in the chairs in the living room and her mother was smiling at her. Meara stopped cold in the kitchen.

"What?" she asked, slightly afraid of the answer. Meara's mother just continued to beam. Meara slowly took off her coat and went to hang it in the closet. As she reached for the handle, she could feel the anticipation in the room rise. She turned to face the room.

"What's going on?" she asked slowly. Every face was plastered with a goofy smile. She raised an eyebrow and stepped away from the closet, dropping her coat on the sofa. The room seemed to empty of air as the tension rushed out. "Someone's going to tell me why everyone's all excited about me opening that door, or we're gonna be standing here a while."

The room seemed to fill with guilt. Meara shook her head and walked into the kitchen.

"What are we eating tonight?" she called out to her mother. Sophia sighed and went to plan a meal with her daughter.

The band sat in shocked silence in the living room. Finally, Robert looked to Ian.

"Do you think she'll realize George is hidden in the closet?" he asked quietly. Ian shook his head.

"No, he'll finally get tired of being in the closet and decide to visit her in her room," he said. "I'd bet money on it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Twenty dollars says that she'll put her coat away and find him," Robert said, pulling out his wallet. Soon, a pile of money was on the coffee table and the band leaned back in their chairs. Robert scooped up the money and put it into his pocket. "For safe keeping," he explained. The others trusted him and didn't object.

Dinner was a lively affair. Meara, mostly out of self defense, was forced to tease within an inch of his life every single member of her band. They took it sportingly and dished it back out to her. By dessert, the room was filled with good cheer and humor. Meara's coat still lay over the back of the chair, forgotten in all the jokes. From his hiding place, George could hear the jokes and smell the food. His stomach rumbled. What small sustenance the airline had given him was long since gone and he yearned for some of Meara's pastas. He yearned for her, but first things first. He could ravish her once he had eaten something.

Upon returning to the living room, Meara noticed her coat still over the back of the chair. She sighed and picked it up. "You," she called accusingly at Robert. "You prevented me from putting my coat away."

Robert shrugged his sholders. "Don't look at me, that was Ian!" he cried, giving himself a halo and trying to look innocent. The room rang with laughter. Meara giggled as she opened the closet door. What met her eyes was not what she expected.

The coat fell to the floor. In the doorway to the closet stood her boyfriend, George Weasley, smiling at her. Meara took a few steps backwards, shock evident on her face.

"Did someone slip me something at dinner, because I am definitely hallucinating," she whispered. George closed the gap between them.

"Do hallucinations do this?" he asked, sending shivers down her spine. He then covered her lips with his own. The band and Sophia politely looked off into the distance, pretending that they didn't see the couple snogging in the middle of the room.

Finally, Sophia couldn't stand it anymore. She stepped up to the couple. "Excuse me, young man," she said in her best imitation of an overprotective mother. George broke the kiss and pulled Meara to his side, turning as he did so that he faced Sophia.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"Who the hell are you to be kissing my daughter like that?" Sophia demanded, fighting a smile. George frowned.

"Well, ma'am, I'm her boyfriend," he responded, raising his eyebrow at the curse word. Meara rolled her eyes.

"Mom, this is George," she said, stepping out of George's hold. "Be nice to him, I'd like to keep him for a while." She made her way over to the closet where she picked up the coat and placed it in its proper place. She then sighed and gently took George's hand.

"You must be starving," she said gently as she led him into the kitchen.

As she watched them go, Sophia smiled. "I'm glad she finally found someone," she said to no one in particular. She then turned to the band and kicked out of the apartment those who did not live there.

Author's Note: I know that this isn't the best chapter in the world. However, I do have a question. Give me the name of your favorite older male character. For instance, Gilderoy Lockhart. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Of that generation.

Do not ask for what this is for. Maybe it's just a cleaver ploy for me to get reviews (note the sad 1 that I have so far garnered), but then again, maybe I'll actually do something with this. Just please review with that name.

Thank you.


	8. Chapter 7: Love, Fights, and Sleep

Chapter 7: Love, Fights, and Sleep

The time George spent in New York was filled with complete happiness. Meara could not believe her luck, that her boyfriend would show up unannounced at her apartment and sweep her off her feet once more. He could only spend three weeks away from the store and seemed determined to do as much as possible in that short time. They enjoyed shows and museums and especially loved sitting at home, alone, just watching the snow fall while Meara read a book. It was heaven on earth, a beautiful time away from reality.

Sophia had rarely seen her daughter so happy. Even when George and Meara had a fight, she could tell that Meara was much less depressed than before. She couldn't help but like this boy with his British accent and fun loving personality. He brightened most every room with his jokes. However, similarities between George and Meara's father began to present themselves. Both had an amazing sense of humor. Both loved a good, home cooked meal. In fact, there was very little in which the two did not share.

Finally, Sophia couldn't stand it anymore. When Meara was out buying groceries and the band was out frolicking in the new snow, Sophia pulled George aside.

"I have to know," she said, trying her hardest not to freak the young man out. Not that it mattered; he'd been living with them for the past two weeks and if he was apt to be scared off, he would have done so long before. Instead, he simply raised an eyebrow.

"And what knowledge might I impart onto you?" he asked politely. Sophia took a deep breath and plunged in.

"I need to know your intentions in regards to my daughter," she said. "I don't want to see her heart broken like mine was."

George looked her full in the face. "I came here to ask her to marry me," he said quietly. "I'm not in the business of breaking hearts."

Sophia visibly relaxed. "Good," she breathed. She made to stand up again, but George pulled her down.

"Who was he?" he asked quietly. Sophia bit her lip but remained silent. George sighed. "He obviously was the love of your life and Meara's father. I would just like to know what I'm getting into."

Sophia sighed. "I don't know his real name, only that he was a wizard," she breathed. George released her arm but she made no move to stand. "He was amazing. Funny, smart, good-looking… He shared your sense of humor, but he had hair black as night. One night he just left. I waited for him until it was painfully obvious that he wasn't coming back. That's when I came to New York and had Meara. I never found out his name, not even to tell him that he was a father." George looked away.

"And he never knew that you carried his child?" he asked quietly.

"No," came the answer. He shook his head.

"How could anyone leave a woman they love?" George asked, more to himself than anyone. Sophia stood.

"That's what I asked myself in the years since he walked away. I've come to two conclusions: either he had something that was so important that he couldn't tell me where he was going, or he…" She trailed off, not willing to voice the dreadful thought that gripped her. George looked away, embarrassed. He stood and began to walk away when he paused and turned to Sophia.

"I'm sorry," he said, words not being sufficient to voice the regret he felt at forcing her to relive the horrible past. Sophia waved her hand in a gesture that clearly expressed that she was impartial to it.

"Don't be," she said. "It happened a long time ago, and you needed to know the truth at any rate. After all, she will be your wife, and now you know why I'll be watching you like a hawk." George laughed and made his way into the living room. He sat down on the couch and turned on the television, trying to sort out all of his feelings.

He couldn't imagine his father walking out on his mother. It was inconceivable. His father had been mad at Molly Weasley, certainly. All married couples have their spats. And yes, Arthur Weasley had stormed out of the house from time to time, only to be found a few hours later in the shed tinkering with the lawnmower or in the village buying his wife flowers. Molly had her fair share of leavings as well. Hot tempered, she often left the house when on the brink of an outburst for a long walk around the yard to cool off. The children had gotten used to this. The fights were often enough, but they usually locked themselves in one room and played a game until the adults were done yelling. In recent years, the kids simply left the house. Fred and George found a nice little coffee shop in the village they began to frequent, and they often took Ginny there for a treat. They accepted the fights as part of love. Put any two people together for any length of time and they're sure to find something to fight about, however silly or insignificant.

But to simply walk out… George shook his head again. He couldn't imagine simply walking out. His father had made a promise to his mother to always be there, and she returned the promise. They kept that through good times and bad. They were in love. Walking out was not an option.

He felt all the pain from Sophia. Obviously, she loved this wizarding stranger. The betrayal of him walking away from the home she was trying to provide must have been immense. But to then find out that the man she knew and loved was gone forever, and that she had no way of finding him… He could feel the pain from Meara at never knowing who this man was. So much pain…

He laid down on the couch and tried to block it out. He closed his eyes. The lack of sleep finally caught up with him, and he fell into a deep slumber.

Meara walked in the door to see her mother holding a finger to her lips. "Shh," Sophia said. "George is sleeping." Meara craned her neck to see into the living room. George was curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly for the first time since he had come to New York. Meara smiled and quietly closed the door. She then placed her things on the floor by the closet and walked into the living room. She turned off the still-running television and pulled the quilt off of the back of the couch. George rolled over onto his back and continued to slumber. Meara gently pulled off the sleeping form's shoes and placed them beside the couch and covered him with the quilt. He curled up once more on his side but didn't wake. Meara gently kissed his forehead and joined her mother in the kitchen.

A/N: Hello. If you are enjoying this story so far, please, review. I write for myself, of course, but it would be nice if someone gave me a bit of positive feedback. So please, for the sake of all that is good, review. Thank you.


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